Heartbreak Warfare
by jadedandboring
Summary: Outtakes, side shots and alternate POVs from The Kübler Ross Model and Tie Me Here in Time.
1. Yesterday

**A/N: This is an outtake from **_**The Kübler Ross Model**_**. If you haven't read the story, that's okay. All you need to know is Dexter is an original character.**

**This was originally written for the Twifans for Haiti compilation. Thank you to everyone who donated and to MsKathy for organizing the whole thing.  
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**Special thanks to siouxchef who stepped in and beta'd this for me, and to stupidreader who inspired Pervmett.**

**I don't own Twilight, its characters, or anything else that is publicly recognizable. Dexter, his family, and these words are mine. Please don't steal.**

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Yesterday,  
All my troubles seemed so far away,  
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,  
Oh, I believe in yesterday.  
_-Yesterday,_ The Beatles

When you're four years old and playing Cops and Robbers with your best friends, you never think about what might happen if one of you isn't there to play any more.

When you're twelve and your friend tells you he's got it bad for a girl, you don't think what life would be like if they were together.

When you're eighteen and those two friends are stronger together than they are apart and still closer to you than anyone else in the world, you think you're invincible and life is just beginning.

When your best friend is diagnosed with cancer, you become a cheerleader. Sure, you listen to his fears, but you encourage him, tell him that it will all be okay. You never imagine that your friend will die at twenty-two and leave behind a group of people longing for the days before cancer was even a word in their vocabulary.

Today, I'm a pallbearer for my best friend. I'm sitting in the front of the church trying not to cry as his best friend and girlfriend knocks the eulogy out of the park. Bella's always been the toughest out of our group of three, but she won't ever admit it.

She's standing up there, recapping Dexter's life and sharing his words of wisdom with everyone, and I don't know how I'm not crying. Maybe it's because she's not crying. She's being strong, which is all Dexter ever asked of her.

I take a moment to look around the room. So many people here; Dexter really was loved by everyone who ever met him. There are kids he met while doing volunteer work in the cancer wing of the local children's hospital, all sobbing because their buddy is gone. His parents are here and Bella told me his mom hasn't stopped crying since the moment he took his last breath. People he worked with, people we played sports with, people we went to school with. I notice Rosalie Hale towards the back of the room, crying into some guy's shoulder. He smiles at something Bella says and Rosalie smacks him.

Before I know it, it's my turn to get up and share my memories of Dexter. I hug Bella as she steps from the stage, holding her a bit longer than I should. I want her to know that just because our common link is gone, she shouldn't think I'm giving up on her.

I get up in front of all of these people and I want to focus on Bella or Dexter's parents, but my eyes are drawn to Rosalie. The one who got away. I watch her the entire time I talk about Dexter, knowing she always wanted him, not me. I don't care. If she ever moves back home, I'm going to find a way to make her mine.

Rose is a pain in the ass, and that's putting it mildly. She's full of herself, she knows what she wants, and she'll stop at nothing to get it. In a word, she's ruthless. She's always been bitchy toward Bella, and I think it's because Rose didn't quite know what to think when Dexter rejected her in favor of Bella.

"Those two were like peanut butter and jelly," I hear myself say, and I know without looking at my note cards that I'm talking about Bella and Dexter together.

Having note cards was a great idea, and I remind myself to thank Bella before I retreat back into my fantasy world. I'm still talking about Dexter, but my mind is playing an image of Rosalie going down on me over and over.

Bad move, subconscious. I can't walk away from the podium with the wood I'm sporting, and I can't discreetly hide it either because I talk with my hands. If I hide them now, people will notice and Bella will probably call me on it later.

To stall and hopefully give myself time to rectify my . . . situation, I start telling a story about a trip Dexter and I took together and realize a little too late that I'm going to have to alter the ending to make it appropriate for telling in a church.

Why did I pick the story about the time we set up a camp site in a meadow we'd found so he could take Bella there and they could lose their virginity to each other? Instead of telling the truth, I tell the story our parents heard about that weekend - Dexter and I went camping because we thought it would be fun. I even embellish a little, telling them how it snowed.

It did snow that weekend, and I didn't think Bella would ever forgive Dexter. But my girl was dickmatized by my boy and she was back on the proverbial horse faster than I could plead with her to forgive him, because _I_ was the idiot who was supposed to check the weather.

My embarrassing wood is gone, Bella is glaring at me and Mrs. Robinson looks horrified. I think Mrs. R knows what really went down that weekend. I snicker softly to myself and thank everyone for coming to pay their respects to Dexter. I sneak in one last look at Rosalie and decide I might want to kill the jerk she's clinging to.

I don't pay attention to the rest of the service because frankly, it's too hard. Despite my perverted thoughts about an old classmate, this is my best friend's funeral. I didn't think I'd be here until we were old, grey, and each had a gaggle of grandkids to spoil.

I'm remembering something funny Dexter said to me shortly before he died, when Reverend Webber asks for the pallbearers to come forward. I wonder if I can really do this. Can I help lift that box containing what's left of my best friend out of this church and into the waiting hearse? Can I lift that box again when we get to the cemetery and willingly let someone put him in the ground? I know I don't have much of a choice; this was the last thing I promised Dexter I'd do for him.

That's the thing about someone knowing they're going to die. They have a lot of time to plan their own funeral. I hope no one else I know is ever in that situation.

Dexter was a goofy guy; he planned where each of the pallbearers would stand. After everyone in the church files past the casket one final time, the funeral director closes it. I'm to take hold near his head, at his right side because I was always his right hand man. He put his cousin Tyler by his left foot, and I actually snorted when Bella told me it was because Dexter _loathed_ Tyler from the moment that kid was born.

Bella is standing there with this look on her face like she doesn't know what to do. She's sandwiched between Tom and Sandy and the three of them were the last ones to look at Dexter. Appropriate, since they were the last to see him alive. Her eyes catch mine and I can see tears there. She's gnawing on the inside of her cheek. I don't know why she's trying so hard not to cry so I mouth _"Let it go_._"_

She doesn't. She won't break down until later, maybe not until tomorrow. She'll wait to do it in the privacy of her apartment, with a pack or two of cigarettes and a bottle of Jack Daniels to keep her company. I haven't told her, but I took tomorrow off work too, because I know she'll call me when it gets to be too much to handle on her own.

I cry a little as we walk Dexter out of the church. After he's safely locked in the hearse, I'm invited to ride in the limo with his parents and Bella. I start to turn them down but Bella's eyes plead with me, so I slide in next to her.

Bella stares off into space, and I know I should be concerned, but I can't stop thinking about Rosalie. I wonder who the guy she's with is and I still want to kill him. Not the most appropriate thought for a funeral, but I can't control my brain.

The ride to the cemetery is short and soon I'm with Tyler and the other guys carrying Dexter to his final resting place. Reverend Webber says a few more words, something about ashes to ashes, and Sandy tugs at my arm until my hand is in hers and I'm holding a fist full of dirt. We wait until the few people who came to the grave side leave and for the guys who work here to kind of lower Dexter into the ground before we toss the dirt onto the casket.

Bella's still stoic, but I'm sobbing.

That's my best friend. I don't know if I know how to function without him.

I catch a ride home with some guy I barely remember from high school and wallow in my room. I must've fallen asleep at some point, because Bella's four a.m. phone call wakes me. She's crying so hard she can't talk, and I know she needs me. I tell her I'll be there soon and hang up.

Dexter may be gone, but Bella is still here. She's my best friend too, and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure she does what he wanted: moves on and leads a happy life.


	2. The Letter

**I know you've all been waiting for this. I felt bad about missing Reader Appreciation Day yesterday, so . . . here you go. The letter that's caused so much trouble in _Tie Me Here in Time_.**

**I don't own Twilight, its characters, or anything else that is publicly recognizable. Dexter, his family, and these words are mine. Please don't steal.**

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Baby,

I know you're surprised to get this and I hope you're not crying. Please don't be angry with my dad for giving this to you when he does, because I asked him to keep it from you.

You're sleeping next to me while I write this and I just can't get over how beautiful you are. You're so innocent when you sleep, B. Luckily, I've been introduced to the real Bella, the one who laughs at crude jokes almost as often as she makes them and who could drink me under the table when I was "allowed" to have alcohol (You didn't snitch to Dr. Hale, right? I'm still trying to figure out how he knew about that drink on my 21st).

I don't know when Dad will give this to you, because I asked him to give it to you when he thinks you're ready. It could be the day after my funeral, it could be your wedding day (you are going to get married; I don't care what you think), or he could leave it to you in his will. I kind of like not knowing. At the same time, I hate knowing you'll think I forgot you until you get this.

Do you remember when we were eight and you decided we were going to get married? You were making me play house with you (I always hated that, but did it because it was you) and I think we had like, nine teddy bear babies. You told me that day that our life was going to be just the way we were playing - we'd grow up, get married and have lots of babies. I kind of hate that we aren't going to have babies together. I really hate that I'm not going to have the chance to call you my wife.

You're mumbling something that sounds an awful lot like "Don't go" right now. I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could fall asleep and wake up healthy. I don't like being this way, you know. I hate being this weak and knowing the end is coming. And lately it's been like this horrible, drawn out version of This Is Your Life, because so many people are dropping in to "visit." I want to call them on their bullshit and tell them I know they're wanting a chance to say goodbye.

Do you know how much I love you? I've known since we were small that you were it for me. I always thought 'til death do us part was going to define our relationship, but I never thought death would come so soon.

I hope you've done what I asked and moved on. Babe, I'm not dumb enough to think people aren't going to chastise you for moving on. I've seen the way the world works, and I know people think they know everything when they know nothing. You're probably going to have a whole host of people telling you that you're moving on too fast, no matter when you decide to do so. Tell them to go fuck themselves, because I asked you to move on - dying wish and all that. No one ever faults the living when they're doing something the deceased asked them to do, right?

Never forget that no one knows what's best for you but you. You, and you alone, are the only person alive who knows what I said to you when we were just being together, cuddled up in bed.

You're the love of my life, Isabella Marie. Not many guys can say they met the love of their life at three days old, but I can. For a few more weeks, anyway. I don't want to stop writing to you and I hope you aren't disappointed that I'm not waxing poetic about how I love you and fawning over memories we made together, the way I did in so many of the letters you saw me write. I can't do that to you, B. You were there for every single one of those memories and I know you, they're locked in that brain of yours.

I'll say it again - I love you. I could attempt to outline the reasons why or what exactly I love about you (everything), but it's you, B. I don't have to, because you know. I just didn't want you to feel left out. As much as I want to sit here and do all that lovey stuff, I can't because my time with you is limited. I'd rather stop writing now and remind you how much I love you when you're awake, than lose another second of watching you sleep.

You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

-D

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**I hope this helps you understand why Bella reacted the way she did initially. **


	3. The Trouble With Love Is

**There's an epic A/N at the end. Please take the time to read it.**

**I don't own Twilight, its characters, or anything else that is publicly recognizable. Dexter, his family, and these words are mine. Please don't steal.  


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**Tanya asked me to write, to journal the experiences with Dexter that meant the most to me. I sat staring at an empty page for at least an hour. I knew what I wanted to write; I wasn't sure I could actually do it. It didn't matter that the memory was one of the most powerful I had or that I never, ever wanted to forget it.

I almost felt dirty, because the first memory I wanted to write about was the last time we slept together.

_Losing someone you love is a double edged sword. On one hand, you know how precious time with them is, because they could be gone at any moment. On the other hand, you know how precious time with them is, because they could be gone at any moment._

_It feels awkward to be writing about this, but it's a memory I want to keep. When I'm ninety, and married to some other guy because Dexter insisted I move on, fall in love, get married, and have a family (and maybe because I actually let myself do those things), I want this memory. I hope that man is caring enough to know I love him, but I love Dexter, too._

_The day after Christmas has been a big deal for our families for as long as I can remember. The Robinsons and the Swans, together for dinner. Emmett joined us the past few years and I'm kind of glad about that. Dex loved the hell out of Em, and it was nice to have him there; he cracks jokes when everyone else is emo and annoying. Fuck, I love the hell out of Em, too._

_I can't remember what Sandy made for dinner or what Renee made for dessert, but I can remember every detail of what happened after Dexter and I got home that night. _

_We had this tradition of our own that we started in 2004. We always spent the night together, first at either his house or mine, then starting in 2006 in __**our**__ apartment, and we always watched Love Actually at least twice. At least one of those times was with commentary, because we both loved how self deprecating Hugh Grant was._

_We watched the commentary twice that night, because we completely missed it the first time. _

_I never, ever blamed him for anything. Missing the commentary that night was TOTALLY his fault. _

_We started out cuddling, which was fine. We did that all the time, even when he wasn't feeling well. He said touching me made him feel better. _

Fuck. A big part of me wanted to start raging at my dead boyfriend, because writing this memory out is making me cry, and this isn't the kind of memory that should make me cry.

_We got to the part of the movie where that Kelly Clarkson song was playing in the background and Dexter started kissing my hair and whispering how much he loved me. We kissed a few more times, and I hated it, but even though he was making me feel __**so**__ good, I felt so bad. I knew he wasn't feeling well, and I just kept taking and taking and taking. We hadn't kissed that way in so long, and I was being selfish. _

_He got gropey, I got annoyed. He told me he wanted to make love to me (he actually used the words "make love," which was so not Dexter. Ever.) and I told him no. What idiot girl tells her beautiful and amazing best friend and boyfriend she doesn't want to have sex or make love? _

_Remind me to take a look in the mirror next time I ask stupid rhetorical questions like that._

_I kept fighting him on it, and he kept insisting. I finally caved when he turned the charm on even further and those blue eyes of his were so full of love and adoration. How could I be stupid enough to tell him no?_

_There's no way I can be graphic about this, even knowing I'm the only one who's ever going to see my words. _

_He consumed me. _

_We both knew it was the last time, and we both made it worth it. Every touch - his hands, his mouth, his everything - was astonishing and amazing and sometimes I still feel all those emotions and touches when I think really, really hard._

_I don't know how to imagine myself with anyone else. How could anyone's fingers ever feel the way his did? How could they fill me the way his did? Can I really let someone put their mouth on me in the most intimate way possible and __**not**__ think of Dexter? Right now, I don't know if I will ever have the ability to let myself go with someone else. _

_It's probably ridiculous to say that; I'm determined to move on the way he asked me to, but it just seems so hard. I can't imagine every opening myself up to someone the way I did for Dexter. I can't fathom the idea of letting someone be where only he has been._

_I can still picture the whole thing so clearly. The way his fingers felt as they moved inside of me, in time with his tongue on me. The way it felt when he was inside of me, moving and whispering and touching where he could. The moment we tumbled into oblivion together, all soft whispers of names and declarations of love. _

_This . . . is a horrible cliché, but every time with Dexter felt like the first time. Every time we were together, I never wanted to leave that moment. It didn't matter if we were in his bed, my bed, our bed. It didn't matter if he stopped me from cooking so he could take me in the kitchen, or if I interrupted the movie we were watching to put my mouth on him with the sole purpose of making him feel as good as he always made me feel._

What mattered was the way it felt, and it always felt like forever.  


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**As readers, I hope you realize how much you truly inspire those of us who write when you review.**

**Yesterday, I received a review on **_**The Letter**_** from lisamichelle17 that said "****I love that he wants to show Bella how much he loves her instead of using words. I can only imagine how powerful the sex was between them." **

**This journal entry from Bella is a result of that one sentence. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for all you do for me. I write because you take the time to leave me your thoughts and reactions.**


	4. Fishy

**This was written for the Fandoms 4 Floods compilation. Just a cute, fluffy piece involving three friends. Enjoy!**

I was cleaning up my apartment when I came across a picture of myself, Dexter, and Emmett. We had to have been about six and on one of our many camping trips when it was taken. Seeing it made me smile, and I remembered one of our funnier conversations.

_"Buuuuut I don't wanna fish!"_

"You have to go, Belly; it's like a rendition," Dexter said.

"Tradition. A rendition is something completely different," I huffed.

Emmett sat off to the side, stuffing his face with marshmallows. "They're gonna come outta my nose," he giggled.

"Cool!" Dexter exclaimed.

"You two are a new, undiscovered level of moron."

"What's a moron?" Emmett asked, shoving another marshmallow into his mouth.

"Oh, I know," Dexter said. "Mommy says Mrs. Cope is a moron. She's from Utah."

Dexter's dad laughed and glanced over at Charlie. "Charlie, that woman is so cold at time, she's like the frozen tundra."

"I guess that's marriage. We get the chain, they get the balls."

"Hey Em! Did you know when you get married, you get chains and the lady gets balls?" Dexter asked.

"Like dodgeball? I like dodgeballs. Coach C let's me throw 'em at Mikey Newton as much as I want."

"Being a bully is not funny, it's just sad."

"Nope. It's funny. 'Specially when Newton cries," Dexter laughed.

"And screams like his sister did that time her and that boy were wrestling on the couch," Emmett supplied.

"They weren't wrestling."

"Yes huh, they were!" Dexter insisted.

"Like Hulk Hogan and Macho Man!" Emmett exclaimed.

"Yeah! Let's wrestle, Em!"

They started scraping on the ground and I shook my head. "I swear you two have one brain cell between you."

Both of them quickly grew bored, and Emmett started stuffing his face with marshmallows again.

"Emmett's mom lets him wear He-Man underwear," Dexter said wistfully. 

_"My mom told me that Emmet's mom also lets him eat absolute garbage, and she lets him run around the house in nothing __**but**__ those He-Man underwear."_

"I wish I had Emmett's mom. My mom will only let me wear white ones because she says nobody looks at my underwear."

"She has a point," I said.

"You would think so."

We were quiet for a few moments and then Dexter suddenly spoke up again. "Hey Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think your Mom loves your Dad?"

I thought for a moment. "Well . . . Yes. Why else would they be married?"  
  
It was one of my favorite memories of Dexter, and finding this picture reminded me of it. I immediately picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hey, Em. You remember when we took that camping trip and you nearly choked on marshmallows? Yeah? I found a picture . . . "


End file.
